


Six More Years

by Justcannibalthings



Series: Luke x Gerard [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Coming Out, Depression, First Time, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Milkshakes, Suicide plans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 16:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justcannibalthings/pseuds/Justcannibalthings
Summary: Gerard gives in to temptation.





	Six More Years

I can understand why people smoke. 

 

I can understand the appeal of having something that can take the stress away; even if its temporary. Everyone has their vices and tragically sugar doesn’t seem to numb me in the same way- I see the relief on the face of colleagues when they take their first drag, and it’s not a feeling I can relate to. Today has been hard. My today, at least- midnight doesn’t signal the beginning and end for me, and I can’t remember the last time I had anything close to a sleep schedule. But that’s not what bothers me, not really. It’s entirely self-inflicted, and is very much better than the alternative. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids, and my wife. More than anything on this earth; I would do anything for them, and I know that sounds horribly cliché and fake, but I would. I have sacrificed a heavy part of my being to ensure my kids are clothed, fed, and in a decent school. That Elizabeth had a ring on her finger that she was happy to show off- she of course would never tell me she cared what people thought. But she did. She cared about a lot of things, and though she may be a housewife she certainly didn’t have the gentle submissive demeaner that it seemed to stereotype with. I know I'm a bad person for not wanting to go home to her but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep telling her I love her in a way that I honestly don’t. I care so deeply for her; but I'm not in love with her. I'm not attracted to her despite her being so incredibly beautiful and it’s a truth I have admitted to myself, if not her. Part of me wants her to notice, and kick me out- to tell me I’ll never see the kids again and leave a mark on my face that only a hand can. I want her to be angry at me; I want someone to be mad because I'm not, I'm just numb. I'm only sober when I'm at work, and I'm happier as fucking horrible as it sounds when I have my hand in someone’s small intestine, than I am when I'm alone in bed with my wife. I have never loved her how she deserves; I let her get pregnant twice. And I do love my kids- of course I do. I wanted them just as much as her, but I have chained Elizabeth to me for the rest of her life, I made vows and told her I would love her, cherish her and look after her in sickness and in health. I am doing that, I am trying incredibly hard to do that but I don’t want to; I have dragged her into my life and entwined hers to mine because I wanted to be like everyone else. I am a horrible, horrible fucking person; I have lived a lie, and in doing so I have denied the only woman patient enough to put up with my bullshit any genuine happiness. We’re playing house, but she doesn’t realise it’s a game. 

 

It’s somewhere around half 4 in the morning; a cool sky is trying incredibly hard to rain and I can feel a few drops landing on my jacket as I make my way into the diner. It’s quiet aside from the shitty music playing in the background. Not many people need food at this hour. I dropped myself onto a chair at the bar and let my head rest on it; closing my eyes for a moment of contemplation. I would be more concerned about it, if I gave a shit about my career at this point. It won’t matter tomorrow. I imagine so many people on death row pick meals that remind them of home; ending their book on something familiar and warm. A burger and something covered in chocolate seem appropriate; nobody really knows what’s in a burger- they're delicious and they don’t seem as unhealthy and full of grease and heart attack inducing fat as they are. And well, I really like chocolate. Not everything has to be a metaphor. My mind casts itself to the death row inmates again; morphine. Pain relief is a very kind thing to give someone; but in high enough doses it will kill you before you even notice. I’ve never had to take morphine, but I've been told it fills you with a unique brand of uncaring euphoria. It seems like a good way to go. The needle sitting in the prescription bag in my car has enough of it to knock out 3 men; it’s definitely enough to kill someone. “Alright there buddy?” a voice breaks my train of thought; and I lift my head up to look at the waiter. “What?” he quirked his brow at me; a perfectly formed one at that- piercing blue eyes beneath them staring into my soul, and filling a corner of my stomach with uncomfortable heat. “I said are you alright. You look like shit.” I let my arms rest on the bar, running a hand over my face as I spoke “Not really. Can I just get whatever your most unhealthy burger is, and a chocolate milkshake.” He nodded at me, and spoke as he turned “Coming up, dude.” He scrawled whatever burger he had picked down on a ticket, and stuck it behind him, hitting the tiny bell in signal for whatever teenager was working at this hour before bending down to get a glass. I let my head tilt slightly to the side- he had a nice frame, the kind you get from actually taking care of yourself, not from good genetics. His shirt was a little too short to cover the back of his jeans; his boxers were poking out of the back, where his shirt had ridden up and that’s where my eyes choose to settle. I’ve lied for a really long time. That cliché that I hear makes sense to me. That you knew, but wouldn’t admit it to yourself. I still don’t like hearing my own internal monolog admitting it- the noun doesn’t sit well to me. But there it is; as bold and obvious as the squeezable arse in front of me. I will let myself have these thoughts now- it doesn’t matter anymore and nobody can hear them; I'm not beyond caring, I'm beside it. I don’t feel anything for myself, not even disgust. I should feel something. I'm a hollow shell pretending I have something inside me. I wish I had something inside of me- but then that’s my problem isn’t it? The waiter has tragically stood himself back up, but the back of his shirt hasn’t completely lowered; caught on his belt. All I want to do is turn him round and shove my hand down his jeans. I want to feel something, I want to want to do that to Elizabeth. I don’t want to have to pretend she’s someone else; I want to love being with her, I want to feel hunger when I look at her, to want to rush home and pin her against the counter. The problem is the idea of that only does something for me if I picture her with a smaller chest and a stronger jawline. I wish I felt like she did; I feel awful declining constantly, I know I'm neglecting her but I can’t not. I can’t make myself do more than I am, and pretending the shifts I've taken voluntarily are mandatory is the only thing that kept me sane this long. I won’t have to worry about that much longer, I suppose. She looks good in black; it makes her hair seem richer. My mind is interrupted again by the sound of the glass hitting the counter. “here yah go. You sure you’re okay man? You seem kind of down, and I'm behind a bar so technically I'm a bartending. Unofficial therapist and all I ask is a decent tip.” I looked up at him and let out a laugh that seemed sadder than I had intended. “Believe me, you don’t want my problems.” I looked at him, sliding the glass in front of myself and admiring the simplicity of a chocolate shake. “Hey, any distraction from my own. Boyfriend broke up with me yesterday and yours truly has to find somewhere to live on a waiters salary. Your problems are a welcome distraction. What’s up, your wife find out you’re fucking your receptionist?” I let my brow quirk slightly; I envied people that were this…confident. “You’re gay?” the guy- his tag said Calvin, laughed and gestured to himself “Here, and queer. Don’t tell me you’re a homophobe, you’ll put a real dampener on the mood.” I shook my head at him, running my hand through my hair and letting my eyes sit on the shake again. The cream on the top was starting to run down the glass. I suppose I should make peace with myself. “No, no…quite the opposite, which is my problem.” Calvin let out an ‘ooo’ and leant himself on the counter in front of me; he was close enough to kiss. “Now that is interesting. Come on buddy what’s your story? Tell uncle Cal.” I let out a deep sigh, looking into the blue eyes of the man in front of me- they were beautiful in a very different way to Elizabeth’s. “Come on man, there's nothing wrong with being a fudge packer.” I closed my eyes for a moment- I don’t even know this guy, I don’t know his fucking surname and he knows more about me than my wife. “I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to…” I shook my head- running my hand over my face again and letting it comb through my hair. “I can’t do it anymore.” I looked down at the drink again, swallowing. “What’s it like?” Calvin raised his brow, tilting his head in interest “Whats what like?” Fucking someone you want to fuck, not hating yourself, being in love. “Not lying.” I responded; hoping the subtext would be clear. “Best thing I ever did. I’m happy, even if Gareth doesn’t appreciate what he's missing, I’ll find someone. It’s a lot easier than living a lie, I bet. It’s definitely more enjoyable from the look on your face.” I took a sip from the drink- enjoying the sweet and artificial taste of chocolate and sweetened cream. “And the sex is fantastic.” I shook my head, giving a sad laugh “I wouldn’t know. I’m married.” Calvin leant himself far closer than I wanted him too, and yet still- part of me didn’t think he was close enough. “Would you like to find out?” 

 

You ever have those moments in life, where you think you’re making an incredibly, incredibly bad decision, but the opportunity is so unique that you just can’t help yourself. You can’t bring yourself to give a shit about consequence? That’s what this moment was. “Yes.” Was all that came out of my mouth- although I could feel my voice cracking rather embarrassingly. My crotch definitely wanted to find out. Calvin hopped himself onto the counter, and swung his legs round- dropping himself onto my side. “come on then.” He spoke- voice oddly light for someone in this situation. I let myself slide from the chair and followed him as he walked “It’s Gerard by the way.” Calvin pushed the bathroom door open, and stood to one side “Nice to meet you Gerard.” I walked in and turned back to him; I'm not really sure what protocol is. “So…no experience?” he queried, turning the lock on the door. “not with…” I looked down at the floor- I could feel the heat in my stomach growing; anticipation, regret, concern. I don’t know which, I don’t care. “Cute. I’ll be gentle.” Calvin spoke as he walked to me, resting a hand at the small of my back and pressing himself lightly against me. “Don’t be.” I found myself responding, brain no longer working logically. If any part of it still was, it immediately stopped when I felt his lips on my own- light stubble scratching my face in the most pleasant way imaginable. I moved my hand to his back- mirroring his movements and pressing myself against him; God he tasted so fucking good. He didn’t taste of anything, not really but I never wanted the moment to stop, I just wanted to feel and not think. The world could fucking wait. Calvin’s tongue was already in my mouth, and I let my hand press under his belt- feeling the squeezable flesh I had admired before and letting myself hum. Calvin moved his own hands- I could feel him undoing my belt, and he was not doing it fast enough in my opinion. I moved my hands round- reluctantly giving up the feel of his ass in favour of getting his jeans off. They needed to be off. Calvin was clearly more practised than I, and I felt his hand slide into my jeans- belt undone. I let myself groan, finally feeling his belt release and unbuttoning his jeans. I needed him to have less clothes on at this moment. Calvin took a step back, breaking the greatest kiss I had ever had. Maybe it was the stubble. He let his jeans drop, and I let my eyes go with them; letting out what I will admit was probably a whimper. I have seen plenty of dicks in my lifetime. You’d be surprised how stupid people can be when it comes to their genitals and some people don’t understand things can get stuck. This though, this was different; I genuinely felt a little light headed. “You can do more than look.” Calvin spoke; putting his hand in my hair and giving me a light push- I did what felt natural, which happened to be dropping to my knees. I can feel my jeans rubbing against my groin; they are suddenly tight which honestly is a level of arousing discomfort that I'm not used to. I put a hand on his thigh, and swallow. I was going to be bad at this; but my God would I enjoy it. I moved my unoccupied hand to grip at his length, running my hang along it- which in itself was quite an odd motion. Still, it was quite a pleasurable image- my hand running along someone else. I let my head tilt to one side, and dipped m head down, taking his tip into my mouth and letting out a hum at the taste. I was right, I was going to enjoy this. I let my head move down further and felt my stomach knot with heat at the sound of Calvin’s deep groans; it felt fucking good to have a dick in my mouth. I moved my hand to his other leg, letting my mouth dip down as much as I dared it to, and pulling myself back up- setting about what I hoped was a pleasing rhythm. Calvin’s hand tightened in my hair- twisting slightly as he pulled at my head and dictated the rhythm himself. This was also a good shout; the roughness was welcome and the taste of salty skin was fucking glorious. I moved one of my hands- taking the opportunity to squeeze his arse as I prayed to the Gods I could think of to keep my gag reflex under control. “Sure you’ve never done this?” He queried; voice low and groany. He was so fucking attractive. I couldn’t really answer with my mouth full, so I pulled my head off of him with great reluctance, and shook my head. There is something incredibly arousing about looking up at a man from your knees. “drop your jeans and lean over the sink.” He spoke, it wasn’t particularly commanding- more guiding, which I was rather grateful of. I stood myself back up, dropping my jeans and turning myself round, leaning on the sink as instructed. I have a feeling this is going to hurt. Calvin’s hand ran itself up my rear- resting on the small of my bag for a moment before moving back down. I let myself hum, his hand was firm- he obviously knew what he was doing and if he wanted to take charge I would fucking let him. After a moment; I felt what could only be described as burning, although it held something pleasing behind it; like pressing on a sore muscle. “Yeah, it hurts a little, sorry. Just take a deep breath and relax.” I nodded loosely, taking in a breath and making myself breath. The pain faded gradually- while it did so I felt his fingers curling and felt something in my stomach shift because fucking hell if this is what happens in a prostate exam I don’t know why people fucking complain. I let myself groan, resting my head on the sinks counter “Do me a favour and don’t ever fucking stop doing that.” I hummed out, pushing myself back because I suddenly felt like fingers were not enough. “I’ve got to if you want me to fuck you.” Calvin’s voice was low, his free hand still gripping at my arse and driving me slightly insane. “yeah, do that.” I spoke; no longer content. “Only if you admit you’re gay.” I turned my head as much as I could from my angle, raising a brow “What?” Calvin removed his fingers; much to my disappointment. “Say it out loud. You’ll feel better.” For fuck sake. I can barely think it without wanting to drown myself in whiskey and work. “You can lie to the whole world dude, but not yourself. That’s gonna fuck you up.” I swallowed, and let my eyes close before speaking- whatever I was doing wasn’t working, and I wouldn’t be around long enough to regret saying it anyway; it’s not like it was a surprise to Calvin by this point, given the setting. “I’m gay.” The words felt strange; but more in a way that wearing a fitted suit felt strange. It was uncomfortable because it made everything else feel warped, like only that fit. I’m gay, I am very very gay. “Doesn’t that feel good?” he questioned, using his now free hand to further part my legs- slotting himself between them. Not as good as this would- I nodded anyway. It was a few moments later that I felt what was honestly the unmistakable feeling of his dick. It burned far more than fingers did, and I gritted my teeth at the feeling. I took a deep breath as I did before, exhaling slowly and letting the burning fade. It was at that point, that he started to move. I am not a stupid man, I have a doctorate, and I can describe to you in great detail how each individual vein works, where it goes and why. Despite this; I do not have the vocabulary to describe how good this feels. “Holy fucking’shit” I let my words blend together, disregarding all other things, beings, and concerns because I honestly didn’t give a flying fuck about them right now. This was the greatest feeling I had ever experienced, and the deep groans and swears coming from the glorified stranger behind me were making this all the better. I don’t want to die anymore. Not if this is what living feels like; not if I can do this again. Calvins free hand moved to my crotch- and I would like to amend my previous statement because this is the greatest feeling I have ever experienced. “God you are fuckin’ tight.” I heard calvins breathy groans as he spoke, and declined to comment- the feeling of being full was fucking incredible, so very fucking incredible. I hadn’t realised how much I had ached for this. I had denied myself the feeling of actual pleasure for so fucking long; I had denied myself an identity and it had really done a number on me. I feel alive, and I feel fucking good. The counter was cool; it was pressing into my stomach with each thrust. Calvin slouched himself over me and I felt his weight press against me, breath on my ear as he spoke. “You want me to come in you?” fuck that is wildly arousing. “God yes! I panted out; embarrassingly out of breath. Calvins hands shifted to my waist as he stood himself back up; grip firm as I felt him spill into me; I let my jaw slack open, groaning at the feeling and spilling into his hand. His movements drew to a halt, and he paused for a moment before pulling himself away from me- I took the opportunity to turn round and slide down the wall; although it was quite painful to sit down. He sat down beside me, and I felt his eyes on me. “I have a wife.” I muttered; reality returning to me in one cruel punch; my stomach filled with nausea instead of arousal. “Oh God I have a fucking wife. I have KIDS” Calvin nodded loosely “Yeah. You should sort your shit out, because its gonna eat you. I’m not gonna tell anyone, but you have to. It eats you alive, and as much as I like having unprotected rebound sex in bathrooms I wouldn’t recommend it as a long term strategy.” I closed my eyes, running my hand through my hair before putting my head in my hands. “I can’t do that again…I can’t…I just cheated on my fucking wife” Calvin stood himself up, pulling his jeans up as he spoke “You should decide whether the cheating is what bothers you, or the wife is. Your burgers on the house by the way…” I let myself laugh at the juxtaposition of the statement, and gave a loose nod. “thanks.” Calvin shrugged “no problem. You’re more interesting than most customers, I’ll give you that. I’ll make you a fresh milkshake while you have your bathroom floor breakdown.” He left the room then; and I let my eyes close, leaning back against the counter. I can’t leave Elizabeth. She would struggle financially if she was alone, and with my hours I could never have the kids. It wouldn’t be fair; not that this was. But I also can’t live my life like this; those piercing blue eyes were etched into my mind. I had no feelings for Calvin- none that weren’t sexual anyway. But I had felt hunger, and genuine lust for the first time in my life. I couldn’t cheat again but I can’t not do that again either. I let out a deep sigh, shaking my head at my predicament. A date, that’s what I need. A cut off point to have this all end. When the kids were finished with college…Elizabeth would be entirely alone, that seemed cruel. School then. When Delilah was 16, and settled in college. I could always go private; Robert had offered to front the partnership money by essentially cutting the first years wage. If I lie about how much I earn, I could put a sum away for Elizabeth, and leave when the kids were older. It seemed a little warped, to lie to cover more lies; to hide from the person I had spent my entire life with. But I needed to. Leaving would never be right, but staying wasn’t an option and divorce was probably cheaper than a funeral. I would miss A&E, but if it meant I could have something like that in my life regularly; feel genuinely content…I couldn’t do this forever, I don’t have the strength to live the lie forever. But 6 more years? I can try.


End file.
